Thursday, November 24, 2005

Just Cut the fucking Turkey already!!

I still remember it like it was yesterday, me sitting in Mrs. Thompson's 5th grade class, hoping that she wouldn't call on me because of my throbbing chubby that I obtained after staring at Lisa Stanton and her tight sweater. I had learned about Thanksgiving in previous classes, the fairy tale about the pilgrims coming over and breaking bread with the Indians, possibly sharing the peace pipe afterwords. Even though it was passed off to impressionable youths like myself as fact, it always had a "Little Red Riding Hood" fictitious feel to it. This particular year, in this 5th grade class, would be one of the first times that I would aggressively question an authority figure about what I perceived to be bullshit. See, a very militant neighbor named Vince moved right beside my family, I think he was a Vietnam vet if my memory serves me correctly, and he would talk to me for hours about a plethora of subjects from "the government killing Martin Luther King", "the government creating the Aids Virus to kill off black folks", and what a "sham" Thanksgiving was.

Armed with a new found arsenal, I was prepared to confront my teacher about the lies that her and those of her ilk had perpetrated against impressionable minds like mine. She held up painting of a Thanksgiving celebration, Pilgrims and Indians at a dinner table totally enjoying themselves. She said, "Class, what does Thanksgiving mean to you??" Lisa "Delicious sweater puppets" Stanton raised her hand immediately and blurted out "The importance of sharing, like they are doing in that picture, that's what it means to me". Mrs. Thompson thanked her for her response, then called on Tommy Hansen, who was, let me say, "healthy". With his mouth watering, and a glazed over look in his eye he said, "Turkey, mac and cheese, Candied Yams. I said Turkey right??" "Yes you did", Mrs. Thompson said, "HumanityCritic, what does Thanksgiving mean to you?" I thought about it, paused briefly and said, "Mass genocide, rape, and diseases that ravaged a race, thanks to the pilgrims in that picture there." Outraged, Mrs. Thompson asked me, "Where did you learn that!!?" "The same place I learned about the government killing MLK, my neighbor Vince", I said with pride. Nowadays I just look at it as a day off, to spend with family, stuffing my face while still acknowledging the read history. That episode in Mrs. Thompson's class wasn't the first time that I would do something around or on Thanksgiving day that would be stuck in my memory forever. Here are a few of those incidents.

Meet the "fucker": Even though I have been known to be an insufferable prick, to the point that people have probably prayed for my demise, I have to say that parents absolutely love me. I don't know if they like me because I am a good person, or if it is because I can shovel so much shit that I would make a career conman jealous. Anyway, I was dating a girl named Julia in college, and our relationship got serious enough for her that she invited me to have Thanksgiving dinner with her family. So I get there and it was innocent enough, her mother was gentle and kind, and even though her father was 6'8 and about 300 pounds of ill intended muscle, he was cool with me. The spread was awesome, it was a sea of food stretched out over a humongous table, it was definitely a feast fit for a king. But looking back, I wouldn't care what they specifically had, as long as they had Mac and Cheese(my favorite food) I was OK.(See, I love Mac and Cheese, to the point that I one day want to eat it off one of my lovers instead of whipped cream. I know, I'm a sick fuck) As we devoured the food like we hadn't had a meal in years, the parents asked me questions about myself, and by the reaction they gave they liked my answers. They were actually buying my bullshit, saying complimentary things like me being a "fine young man" and openly asking if I planned on "Marrying their daughter".(I figured it was inappropriate for me to blurt out the truth, that Julia was indeed "Practice Patch")

We finished the meal, cleared the table, and after I went to the toilet to "lose weight" I joined the family to watch the Thanksgiving football game. After about 20 minutes of watching lackluster pigskin, I notice that Julia's parents had fallen asleep. I immediately got a chubby, and gave Julia a "let me fuck you in your parents house" look. She was with it, so we snuck upstairs and proceeded to do the nasty on the same bed that Julia grew up sleeping on. Humping on a single bed is something that a gymnast would find hard to do, but we figured it out as we bumped uglies as silent as we could. Looking around her room at all her childhood interests mid coitus just struck me as funny, so funny in fact that I started to hum the smurf theme in the middle of us making love. "La-la-lala-la la-la-lala-la la", I sang as Julia burst out in fits of laughter. A few minutes later, because she had an abundance of pubic hair that resembled a fury beast, a ran my fingers through it and sang, "Monchee-chee, Monchee-chee, oh so nice and cuddly", making her laugh once again. We were having a great time, at least I know I was because I hadn't ejaculated prematurely for once, but all my glory ceased when I saw Julia's father standing in the doorway. I figured, with his extremely muscular frame and muscle mass from hell, that he would proceed to detach my head from my body. But he was calm, and simply said "Stop that you two and come downstairs", and left the room. The weird thing is that he didn't kick me out, or lecture me about my blatant disrespect, we just continued watching football like nothing happened. The one weird thing is that he mentioned me singing that smurf song and the monchee-chee one, which freaked me the fuck out because a couple minutes passed between the two songs. Meaning that sick fuck was standing there watching!! Talk about having some thighs on Thanksgiving.

"..and the Chicken tastes like wood": More than a decade ago, when I was an aspiring rapper, I spent one of my first Thanksgivings away from home. See, we were in New York recording some songs and meeting with record executives to jump start our rap careers. Not knowing anyone in the area to mooch some Thanksgiving grub off of, we ended up spending it with the family of a girl that my band-mate was having sex with at the time. Even though the woman in question lived in an area that was as safe as Beirut, I didn't care because I was literally at that time a starving artist. We go inside the house and my appetite was shrinking as what I saw started to seep into my subconscious. For one thing the house smelled like an old ass cabinet, like a old persons house that had been abandoned for years. The girls mother looked good for her age, but she wore so much perfume it seemed that she chose to because she despised showers. The grandmother, a sweet woman, smelled like a toilet in a punk rock club because of her adult diaper that needed to be desperately changed. Despite all of those seemingly insurmountable circumstances, I was still willing to get my grub on.

You know you have questionable food in front of you when you can't tell what the fuck something is. You also know that the food is horrible when you start eating the "safe" shit first, buns, corn, etc. When I gathered enough courage to eat the turkey, I wasn't surprised that the bird traditionally served on this day tasted like a new leather belt. It got to the point that I started quoting "Rappers Delight" saying: "So your heart starts pumping and you think of a lie and say you already ate/ and your friend says man there's plenty of food so you pile some more food on your plate" My friends laughed hysterically as I referenced a Hip Hip classic where the MC talks about eating some horrible food at a friends house. The girls mother, the resident MILF, starts asking me personal questions like if I had a girlfriend or not while rubbing my leg. I think that I would have been aroused because she was a older hottie, but the mixture of the uneatable food and nasty perfume stench had my black ass hallucinating like I had just taken a hit of acid. She left the table to pour me and my friends some holiday drinks, so I thought I would quote "Rappers Delight" once again. I rapped: "Have you ever went out to a friends house to eat and the food ain't just no good/i mean the macaroni's soggy and the peas are mushed and the chicken tastes like wood". Again we burst into laughter based on our current situation, as the mother comes into the room with drinks in hand, asking us what were we laughing at. We blow off that question, and proceed to drink up most of her liquor that she served up that night, getting completely shitfaced.

As I helped her clean the dishes, she said "I know that you guys were talking bad about my cooking. I know "Rappers Delight" motherfucker, who doesn't?? I'm pretty offended." I felt very small at that point, and was searching for something to say when she interrupted with "...but you're cute though so I'll forgive you this time." I suddenly felt that I had to make amends for the disrespect that I had showed her in her house, but I didn't know what to do until I looked down at her cleavage momentarily. I won't go into explicit detail about what I did or didn't do to her in her kitchen that night, but lets just say that I was smelling her perfume on my body for weeks, regardless of how much I scrubbed my body.

19 comments:

You're still mad as ever... and I still love ya!I guess y'all are too busy eatin' to comment. Me here in lil' ole Canada has no Thanksgiving (y'all are late! Ours was last month!) so I can read to my heart's content.